Sabine opened the tiny window in the corner of the attic of her store’s building and stuck her head out, hoping for a breeze. She coughed once, wheezed a couple more times, then pulled her head back inside and stared at Maryse, who was already tugging on boxes tucked in the far corners of the room.
“I can’t believe you haven’t looked at any of this stuff since last time,” Maryse said.
“Please, you act like my aunt stored the secrets of the world in those boxes. We’ve been through this before and didn’t find a thing.”
“We were eighteen. What might be important now is something we might not have noticed or understood then.”
Sabine sneezed and tugged another box from its hiding spot. “I guess so. But if all I end up with is a cold, you’re making me soup every day.”
Maryse waved a hand in dismissal. “You live across the street from every restaurant in town and they all deliver. Besides, I burned the toast this morning. Luc won’t even let me use the microwave.”
Sabine laughed. “Smart man.” Her scientific-minded friend gave a whole new meaning to the term “nondomestic.”
“I don’t have to take this abuse from both of you. And if I find an anti-aging formula in here or a Farmer’s Almanac for 2015, or something equally as cool, I’m not letting you in on it.”
“Who the hell reads the Farmer’s Almanac?” Helena’s voice boomed from the doorway.
“Farmers,” Sabine shot back. “What do you want, Helena?”
“I saw the ‘Closed’ sign for the shop and thought I’d come see what you were up to.”
“We’re cleaning out the attic,” Sabine said.
“Hmmmpf,” Helena grunted. “Looks like this shit’s been here for a hundred years. You’re not much of a housekeeper, are you, Sabine?”
Sabine stared at the empty doorway. “I guess your attic was spotless?”
“Of course. I paid people to clean it twice a year.”
“Never mind.” Sabine rolled her eyes, and Maryse grinned. Sabine turned around and opened a box of ancient clothes. She pulled out the first couple of garments, then waved one in the air. “Hey, Maryse, you think one of the playhouses in New Orleans would be interested in these?”
Maryse looked up from an old steamer trunk that she was struggling to pull into the middle of the room. “Cool! I think they’d be thrilled.”
“Some of this material is fantastic, and so well-preserved. I might keep a couple myself and make something of them.”
Maryse nodded. “If anyone can make it wearable, you can. That pink would look good on you.” She pointed to a pretty calico dress.
Sabine held up the dress and studied the color. “I don’t know. This is the same color as that T-shirt I wore to that breast cancer walk in New Orleans last month. A picture of me, Mildred, and a couple others ended up in the newspaper and the shirt made me look all washed out.”
“None of you look good in the newspaper,” Helena said. “Look at that shot of Maryse the local paper had. Maryse looked like the running year of bad weather.”
“Well,” Maryse said, “the next time a ghost wakes you up in the dead of night because a man is crawling through your bedroom window to kill you, and you have to run down the street in your pajamas and bare feet, and you just miss dying by a half a second, then you can tell me how bad I look.”
“She’s got a point.” Sabine glanced over at the doorway, an idea forming in her mind. “Helena, are you planning on sticking around for a while?”
“Yeah, although the beauty shop is a hell of a lot more interesting than the two of you. Now, if Maryse would let me in her house when Luc was there…that would probably be something to see.”
“Not on your life,” Maryse said and glanced over at Sabine, who was holding up a large lime green dress with ruffles from top to bottom. “What’s with the gigantic ruffle thing?”
Sabine grinned. “I was thinking that Helena ought to wear it. Then I could see her. Or her clothes anyway.”
“Oh no,” Helena said. “I’ll wear a hat or something or a wristband, or even one of those cone bras like Madonna wore in that video, but I’m not wearing that monstrosity. No one over the age of four should ever wear ruffles, especially across their butt. And green? Jesus, I’d look like moving shrubbery.”
“I hate to admit it,” Maryse said and laughed, “but she’s right.”
“Probably so,” Sabine agreed, “but I’d still like to see it.”
“No way,” Helena said.
“You know,” Sabine said, “I could still work in that exorcism Maryse and I discussed before. You wouldn’t want me to sic the power of God on you, would you, Helena?” Sabine knew an exorcism wouldn’t do a thing to the ghost, but Helena still wasn’t sure.
“Fine,” Helena huffed. “Throw that damned thing toward the door.”
Sabine tossed the ruffled nightmare toward the doorway and grinned at Maryse as Helena grunted and complained while tugging.
“Are you happy now?” Helena asked.
Sabine took one look at the doorway, now totally eclipsed in a sea of jiggling green, and howled in laughter.
Maryse shook her head. “That is just wrong.”
Sabine wiped at her eyes, tears of laughter blurring her vision. “You ought to see it without Helena in it. Oh my God, that is just the funniest thing I have seen in forever.”
“That’s it,” Helena said. “I’m taking this thing off.”
And that’s when the sound of glass breaking downstairs made them all freeze.